


Games. Family. Love.

by heizl, NickEllis1314



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Board Games, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, One Shot, Pre-Deviant Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Short & Sweet, quarantined
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23235070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heizl/pseuds/heizl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NickEllis1314/pseuds/NickEllis1314
Summary: Because of some rebellious protesters, Androids, and owners of said Androids, were ordered to stay inside. It'd been a long day of restlessness, and boredom, and Markus was almost genuinely excited to get Carl to bed so it could all finally be over. Carl wasn't exactly tired yet though, so they reminiscence for awhile.
Relationships: Carl Manfred & Markus
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28
Collections: Lock Down Fest





	Games. Family. Love.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone is doing alright and staying safe. My best friend and I wrote this together last night to take some anxieties away from the current uh, scary situation. So pls enjoy some cute Carl and Markus father son time. Also, this was his first time ever writing a fanfiction! Am very proud

Times were tense, and it's not like Markus went outdoors much anyways unless it was for a specific errand, or _with_ Carl, but he could feel himself getting antsy. Focusing on every minuscule speck of dust. Carl seemed less bothered by staying cooped up inside; he'd enjoyed a few cups of fresh tea, worked on some old abandoned projects. 

The city had issued an urgent warning to stay indoors because of some 'violent protestors'. Guess they were vandalizing the streets and tried robbing the Cyberlife store in Hart Plaza, also threatening to injure any, and all Androids, and supporters, they came across. Markus thought it was silly they hadn't already stopped them, but there were hundreds, all dressed stealth, waiting for the perfect vulnerable Android to attack.

Night swiftly swept the uneventfulness of their caged-in day away, and Markus knew it was about time to get Carl up to his room; Carl was still sitting in the living room of their house, a book (he wasn't sure which) on his lap. He seemed content, at least. That made one of us. Meanwhile Markus was distracted with thoughts of a few spaces that needed tidying up, wanting to busy himself as much as he could. Carl said it was fine, _insisted_ he sat with him and relaxed. But this was more relaxing for him. Moving his hands, doing chores.

He finished wiping down the countertops in the kitchen, scrubbed down the fridge a bit too, and when he peeked his head out, he caught Carl yawning. As he neared the couch with a smile, Markus had said, "I'm thinking it's about time for bed."

"Is it, now? I've been so engrossed in this, I didn't know it was already dark out," Carl chuckled.

"What are you reading?"

He held up a smaller black paperback. " _The Mystery of Being_ by Gabriel Marcel. I suggest you read it sometime, Markus. I think you'd enjoy it."

"Maybe I will." He went to retrieve Carl's wheelchair, delicately lifting the slender man, setting him back down. He attached him to the lift, walking up the stairs beside him. Again, he pulled Carl into his arms, keeping the chair near the top of the stairs. Carl was a little warmer than usual, he noted; a temperature of 99.8 to be exact. “Carl, you’re burning up. Are you feeling okay?”

"Oh, I'm fine," he said, feigning a smile— the kind that Markus knew he always forced to be polite, the kind he'd seen countless times when they were at art benefits and Carl wanted to be anywhere but talking to a bunch of tootsy rich snobs. "You worry about me too much, Markus. You know that?"

“Hm," he hummed. "Are you sure you don’t need anything before bed?” Markus knew Carl wasn’t fine, he’d seen that same smile far too many times to be deceived (and Carl was a _terrible_ liar to start with). After only a few more steps, he reached the door of Carl’s bedroom, opening it and walking inside.

"A bedtime story would be nice," Carl said softly with a low chuckle, before patting his hand against his chest, furiously coughing up a storm. Markus' forehead creased.

“Carl... That’s a nasty cough. Would you like me to phone your doctor?” He'd soon lay Carl in the bed, pulling the off-white covers over him. He grabbed a chair near Carl’s nightstand, sitting beside him.

"No, no. If it gets any worse, we can call in the morning. Not right now," he sounded hoarse. Maybe he should get him water— he went into his bathroom and picked up a glass, filling it up, setting it down where Carl could reach it.

"Thank you, Markus." He settled against one of his many pillows, his eyes fluttering. "What about you? Are you doing okay?"

“Yes, Carl, I’m fine," Markus looked deep into his eyes, with a slight fear of what illness could hold onto Carl. He knew he was getting older, had watched as his health declined over the past few years. He didn't want to think too deeply about it, though. “What bedtime story would you like to hear?”

Carl stroked his chin with shaking hands before a smirk appeared across his face. "Your favorite memory."

“Hm," Markus again hummed, cupping his own knees. There were a lot of things that sprang to his mind. "I'd say it'd have to be the first time you taught me how to play Monopoly. It was so special… the laughs we shared while the dimly lit candles slowly were burning out. It was truly a wonderful night. Thank you for that, Carl.” And maybe there was a slight hesitation behind the action, but Markus leaned a little bit forward and softly gripped Carl's hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of his palm.

Carl let out another chuckle, tainted by wheezy breaths. He pivoted his wrist, taking Markus' into his own, keeping it there in place. "It was. Though I must say, you've always bested me in games— at first it was frustrating, but I respect your skill. Especially at chess. God, you're good at chess."

“I'm only good because of your teachings. Now, you should get some rest.” 

"Probably should, you're right. Don't know if I _can_ though." He looked at him, a glimmer in his eyes. "You're not in a hurry to leave, are you?"

“Of course not. I can stay as long as you’d like."

"Do you know where we keep the games?"

“They should be up in the closet down the hall. Would you like me to go get one?”

"Yes. Go pick out a few. Surprise me."

Markus nodded, letting go of Carl before standing up, walking down the hall. He opened the closet to see a multitude of games stacked up; maybe he could organize this sometime soon as well. They had everything, from Yahtzee to Uno. There were even a few different sets of playing cards, some he knew Carl had been gifted from fans. So he grabbed Monopoly, Scrabble as well, and a pack of cards with a few poker chips. He turned on his heels.

"Back already?" Carl met him with a grin. "Come on, show us what you got." Carl pushed himself to sit upright with shaky arms. He looked a bit pale and washed out, but he could see he was trying to force himself to stay awake.

“I grabbed my favorites,” Markus placed the games on the foot of his bed. “Which one would you like to play first, Carl?”

"Come here," Carl pat the spot on the bed next to him. "Actually, be a dear and turn on some music first, would you?" He looked over the assortment, brows raising. "Scrabble, huh? That's always a thinker."

Markus flipped through the small pile of vinyls they kept in his room. "Anything in particular?"

"Nothing too loud."

He picked out Maria Callas and gently lowered the needle. Then he climbed into the bed, sitting next to Carl, his legs crossed. “Yes, I do love Scrabble.”

"Well," Carl reached for the box, pulling out the game board. He handed Markus his pieces. "Let's see if you can beat me. You know I'm the Scrabble master."

“Oh, of course, Carl. But, I am anything _but_ an apprentice," he smirked back at him, grabbing the last few pieces from the bag and finished setting up the game.

"Games on then," he laughed quietly, shifting through his tiles before spelling out 'spoon'. "You never forget, anything, do you?"

Markus looked up slightly; he could see the reflection of his LED in the glass frame of a painting, turning from yellow, then back to blue. He'd remember that quote for the rest of his life. 

“No, Carl. I don’t,” Markus said before placing down ‘say’.

Carl was pondering over his next move, but then he looked up, meeting Markus' eyes. "So you remember the day we first met? Or, no no, rather the day you came _home_?"

“Of course I do. You had doubts of your ability to walk again... I’m glad I came along when I did.”

He played his move, then nodded. "Yes. That was the first stroll in a park I'd had in months. Leo was always off doing his," he vaguely gestured, " _business_. I know he saw me as a burden."

“It’s alright, Carl, you have me now. I won’t leave you," Markus rubbed his chin. “Interesting move,” a few moments later, Markus played a move of his own.

"Not as interesting as yours," Carl remarked. "I don't know what I'd do without you, son."

Markus smiled. "Carl?"

"Yes?"

“What is the meaning of life? I remember the first time we walked through the park and saw all of those kids playing and the birds chirping," he looked away, sucking in his lips. "It felt so _vibrant_."

"Wow. Heavy question for," he glanced at his bedside clock, "half past eleven. I'll be honest with you. I don't think anyone really knows why we're here. If there's even a point to this whole life thing. It's— it's what you make of it. What do you think is the reason behind this all?"

“I-I don’t really know. I guess I’m still trying to figure out myself," Markus mimicked a yawn, only because he knew it would get Carl chuckling the way he always did, the way that made Markus… _feel_ happy. “It’s getting late, Carl."

Carl's eyes were beginning to shut. He was drifting off while sitting up. "Party pooper. The night's still young."

“Oh, _Carl_ ,” he tsk'd. Markus quickly moved the board out the way, setting it on the floor. “You should _actually_ sleep now.”

"I suppose. We can continue our game in the morning." Carl shuffled back under the covers. He really couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

Markus gathered the rest of the games and placed them on the nightstand before laying beside Carl. Sometimes he stayed with him like this, when he didn't feel like being alone downstairs. Tonight was one of those nights— he reasoned it was because he was worried about his fever, or anxious from being trapped inside all day. Though, it wasn't like he could… actually feel those emotions. “Night, Carl.”

"Goodnight," he said softly. Markus flicked off the lights with a blink of his eyes, and a moment's time passed before Carl said, "Markus?"

“Yes?” he asked quietly

"I love you. You'll always be my son, and please, never forget that," Carl reached out, squeezing his shoulder.

“I-I love you too, dad," he cupped his hand over Carl's, knowing he _genuinely_ meant that.


End file.
